


Grenade

by Walkinthegarden



Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Army, Child Abuse, Childhood, Childhood Friends, F/M, Flashbacks, Foster Care, Gen, Horrible People, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Torture, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 01:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Callen sees an old friend at Headquarters and together they remember a time when being beaten by people was normal, when they had no one but each other, when the world damned them to hell. They remember how it use to be and how they survived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grenade

The world stopped. For a moment it was just them, just the two of them. She was standing with Hetty, a smile on her pretty face. She didn’t see him, didn’t even know how close he was to her. She finished her conversation and gave Hetty a smile before spinning towards the door with a wave over her shoulder in goodbye. Her ponytail swayed back and forth as she walked, her black stilettos clicking against the floor.

 

~:~

 

Callen glared at his new foster father when the man didn’t even look up from his coffee and paper to greet him. The foster mother apologized for her husband before showing him to the upstairs where there was just one big bedroom that held eight beds.

 

“Pick any bed except for the one by the window, closed to the closet. Dinner is at six if you want to come down or seven if you want me to bring it up to you. Feel free to watch the TV up here or do whatever you’d like.” Just like that she was gone, leaving him to throw his duffle on the bed by the window opposite the closet.

 

He had just finished unpacking when the door opened again. A girl his own age entered, closing the door behind her. She was dressed in dark blue jeans, black boots, and a brown tank top with her brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail. What he noticed most of all though, was two sets of dog tags swinging from her neck.

 

She stopped when she noticed him, a cold calculated look crossing her pretty face. She folded her arms and spread her feet to be shoulder length apart. He didn’t miss the slight bulge in her front pocket from a pocket knife that was peaking slightly over the top.

 

“Sadie Monroe, 17,” she stated simply.

 

“G Callen, 17,” he responded in kind.

 

After a moment she nodded her head and stepped forward to shake his hand. He took it and while it wasn’t a shake so much as mutual pressure, he knew that she was a force to be reckoned with.

 

“Well Callen, welcome to hell.”

 

~:~

 

She was just about to turn the corner and disappear again when Callen realized he didn’t want to let her go.

 

“Monroe!” he yelled, startling both himself and the rest of the people milling about Headquarters.

 

Everyone, Hetty included, stopped and watched carefully as the woman turned to look at him. She regarded him the same way she had when they were teenagers before giving a curt nod and walking towards him. She gave him a sly smirk as she extended her hand once again.

 

He took it, and once again it wasn’t so much of a shake as it was a mutual pressure.

 

“Well Callen,” she said in a voice of promised death.

 

“Welcome to hell,” he replied.

 

~:~

 

“We’re almost out,” Monroe said one evening a few weeks after his arrival. They were both sitting on their respective beds, watching each other out of the corner of their eyes. Monroe was carving a piece of soft wood with her pocket knife and Callen was reading a book about Russia.

 

Callen looked up, setting the book down to meet her eyes. She was talking about their eighteenth birthdays, which were within days of each other. While they didn’t fully trust each other, they had bonded in the hell that was their foster home. Callen had had some twisted foster parents before, but these were by far the worst. They were each other’s only ally, only friend. They had to bond together since this was their last stops until they were both free.

 

“Almost,” he agreed, sitting up suddenly when he heard a car door slam. He exchanged a look with Monroe. She gave him a pained face as they both stood up and walked towards each other. They met in the center, giving each other one last nod of support before they turned on their heels and walked to the door to meet their tormentors.

 

“Well Callen,” she whispered in a voice of promised death.

 

“Welcome to hell,” he returned.

 

~:~

 

“You know Agent Monroe?” Hetty questioned, observing the exchange between arguably two of the best agents to work for the United States government.

 

Callen didn’t answer, the two so caught up in each other they didn’t hear her question.

 

“It’s been a long time Callen,” Monroe greeted, turning her head the way she did in their youth when she knew something someone else didn’t.

 

“Yes it has Monroe. You still working for the CIA?” he asked. Her cunning smile widened at his question and he laughed too, sharing a secret no one else understood.

 

“You don’t have the security clearance to know what I do. But I can say that if you were to ever join me…”

 

“That you’d be welcoming me to hell?” he asked with a laugh.

 

~:~

 

“You ready to go?” Monroe asked as she glanced out the door to make sure the coast was clear. When he gave her a nod in the affirmative, the two snuck down the hall. They would have gotten out clean if Callen hadn’t tripped over one of their foster father’s shoes.

 

“Run!” Callen yelled when the light flickered on in their foster parents’ room. Monroe didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing his hand she pulled him behind her as they both ran from the house for their lives. The lack of food and water made their vision blur and their body’s scream in pain but they didn’t slow down, they couldn’t. They heard their foster parents screaming but they didn’t stop. Monroe chanced a glance behind her to see their foster father cock his gun and take aim. The shots echoed in their ears but they kept running until they were far enough away to hail a cab.

 

With all the money they’d managed to steal they told the cab their destination and paid him once they arrived. It was dark, but the Army Recruitment Center was alert with activity since it was so close to an Army Post and had a reputation of giving street kids a future in the Army (which was much easier if you were open 24 hours and gave the children food and a place to sleep).

 

Callen and Monroe looked at each other, knowing that they’d be bombarded with questions the minute they stepped foot inside. With a reassuring nod to each other they entered the Center. Under the harsh florescent lights, it was easy to see the black bruises that covered most of their arms and face, it was easy to see the claw marks of their foster mother and the knife wounds from their foster father.

 

“What happened?” one of the recruitment officers asked as he ran over to them.

 

Monroe exchanged a look with Callen before returning her dead eyes to the officer. “We just came from Hell.”

 

~:~

 

“So you’re the one they call the Ghost?” Monroe asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

 

“Always have been able to float through life unnoticed,” Callen answered in amusement.

 

“Yes you have,” she agreed with a nod.

 

~:~

 

“Wait, you want us to become spies?” Monroe asked with slightly narrowed eyes as she and Callen observed the two suits in their commander’s office.

 

“We would like you to become operatives for the Central Intelligence Agency. You are both excellent soldiers and you will do well in the Army, but we’ve reviewed your tests scores and their off the charts. You’re both resourceful, think outside the box, you take on roles like you never had an identity other then the one assigned, combined you speak eighteen languages, you’re amazing candidates for the CIA.”

 

“We’ll think about it.”

 

~:~

 

“Why’d you leave the CIA?” Monroe asked, both still oblivious to the world around them.

 

“Why’d you stay?” Callen returned in challenge.

 

~:~

 

“Monroe!” Callen screamed as they dragged her away from him.

 

“Don’t tell them anything!” she screamed in response as she kicked at her attacker. It was useless against him. He was bigger and stronger and just as trained as she was. He pulled at her clothes until they lay in a pile on the floor.

 

“Leave her alone!” Callen yelled as he fought against their captures.

 

It was no use, any of it. She kicked and she screamed but the man still overpowered her and took her roughly against a wall while Callen screamed and threatened.

 

They were rescued four hours later.

 

Their captures were dead within thirty minutes after that.

 

They went their separate ways two years after that.

 

~:~

 

“It’s not like it was the first time,” Monroe said with a shrug. She gave him another smile that to anyone else would have looked genuinely cunning and secretive, but revealed a world to him. It was sad and haunted and familiar. Callen realized for the first time in so long just how much he missed her. While he and Sam had been through some pretty intense things, he and Monroe had been through hell and back more times then he could count. She’d seen everything he had, understood what it was like to be unloved and unwanted, understood what it was like to be tormented and tortured by the people that were assigned to take care of you. She understood how easy it was to take on an identity because they’d been stripped of their in the system. She understood him, and he was never letting her go again.


End file.
